Wrong Choices
by kittymchale
Summary: What would have happened if Mike made the wrong choice between football and glee club? What would have Brittany done? Read and Review, please! For the impatient Shadesz, as always.
1. Parties

**woooo. new multi-chapter mike/brittany fic! woo! hahaha please enjoy, happy grasshoppers. **

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. I don't want to go, but I have to," I tried to explain, walking toward the choir room door. Mr. Schuester's face was twisted in confusion. The rest of the club's eyes were fixed on me, mumbling angrily to each other. I left the glee club alone with one member short. Rachel looked royally pissed off, sticking up her nose at me and crossing her arms. Everyone was hurt by my regretful decision, but the one that looked the most hurt was my best friend, Brittany. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stood up from her orange chair, hopping down on to the tiled floor. She ran after me, setting a hand on my forearm. Attempting to blink back her tears, Brittany started to cry, getting a firm hold on my arm.

"Mike, please don't leave!" Brittany choked, her voice breaking on the words. Guilt pulsed through my body as I watched the broken tears pour down Brittany's face. My thoughts screamed at me to stay. My body surged toward Brittany, my brain begging me to stay with her. I felt like at that moment I should have come out with a, "Just kidding!" or something, just to cover up my foolish mistake. I wanted to hug everyone and apologize, just pretend I never betrayed them, right in front of their eyes. At that moment, I hated myself. Even if I turned around, no one would want me back. Brittany reluctantly let go of my arm, her face turning to stone. My eyebrows crushed together, wordlessly trying to apologize. Brittany's eyes narrowed for a second, walking back to her seat. She sat down, sobbing into her hands. Santana hugged Brittany close, rubbing her back apologetically. Santana shot me a scowl, mouthing curse words and flipping the middle finger.

"Hey," Mr. Schuester mumbled to Santana, forcing her to stop. She mashed her lips together as I left the room. As soon as I closed the door and got out of sight, I groaned in frustration, the sound echoing through the vacant hallway. I ran my fingers through my hair, digging into my scalp with my fingertips. My football jacket burned on my body, searing my skin. I wanted to take it off. I wanted to burn it, throw it away, anything to get it off of me. Football was the whole reason I had to quit glee club.

It all started a few days ago with Coach Tanaka screaming about glee interfering with football practice. He reminded me of a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, jowls flopping all over the place. I wasn't really listening to anything he said, just pretending I was watching him intently. Matt whispered to the side of me something that really made me start listening.

"Dude, I don't know if I am going to stay in glee. It's not like I get any solos or anything," He mumbled, probably not meaning it. That's when it hit me. I was worth nothing to the glee club. I was worth my dancing skills and my swaying in the back. Who needed any of that? That day after Coach stopped yelling, I walked into his office, ready to talk about my future with football.

"I already know, you're staying with Schuester, just like everyone," Coach Tanaka told me, looking down at his desk, "It was worth a shot." He looked extremely upset, taking a giant bite out of a chicken wing that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Drops of grease fell on to the book of plays that was lying open on the disheveled desk.

"No, I'm staying. Glee club doesn't need me. I'm just a prop," I told him, trying to be serious. Coach Tanaka's face lit up. Dropping his chicken wing on the floor, he ran to me, giving me a huge bear hug. He smelled like tuna and canned cat food. I pushed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep from gagging. He shook me around, ecstatic by my decision.

"Finally, the first one that won't let me down!" Coach beamed, sitting back down in his desk chair, "If Finn goes with Schue, you might just have a chance at quarterback."

"Whoa, wait, how? I'm not...tough enough for quarterback," I explained, "I mean, I'm not all...muscley, like the rest of the guys on the team." Coach gave me a thoughtful glance, decoding my words. He nodded to me, agreeing.

"I am not saying you are weak, but you're probably right. We'll find something for you. Good job, Mike," Coach half-smiled at me. He picked up a pencil and started to work carefully on his playbook, wiping away the grease. I left the office, holding my head high. I felt good about what I did, still with a tiny pinch of guilt lingering in my stomach. I shook it off, excited about my fate. No more slushies, no more bullying. I was part of the top dogs at the school again. The next day, I ended up in the choir room, quitting glee.

After I was done being vain and self-centered, I really thought about what I was leaving behind. No more singing and dancing, no matter how hidden I was. I know I was a background person, but I still wanted my creative outlet. I loved performing. My feet seemed to move effortlessly under me when I got into the zone, freeing myself through the only way I really knew how. I was very passionate about singing, but never got a chance to show it. Around the time when I was 14, I couldn't listen to music without biting my lip and digging my fingernails into the chair to keep myself from singing along. It wasn't any of these things that convinced me that I made a huge mistake. It was no more Brittany. Brittany would never want to be my friend when I betrayed everyone. The glee club, Mr. Schuester, nearly everyone I cared about. I was leaving all of this for what? Not having to drip with slushie and being able to hang around the gorillas on the football team? Was leaving everyone really worth it? All I knew was that it was too late to turn back.

"Smart choice, dude," Matt mumbled, patting my back. Matt was wearing his jacket proudly, his chin sticking up, "I quit, too. We should throw a party or something." Matt suggested, talking animatedly with his hands.

"I don't feel like celebrating, Matt," I told him, staring down at the dirty tile. Matt punched me lightly on the arm.

"Come on, dude! Stop being so uptight! We are out of that stupid club. They never wanted us there anyway!" Matt tried to convince me, attempting to make eye-contact with me.

"That's crap. You know you liked it there, no matter how much background swaying we did! Would you rather be hated for being a good person and doing what you love, or be loved for being a terrible person and doing something you find no enjoyment in?" I spat angrily, my frantic eyes darting around Matt's face. Matt's eyes were mocking me, crossing his arms indifferently.

"Okay, calm down, _Rachel_. I guess we aren't on the same page. I'm just saying, dude, there's no turning around. You're with us forever," Matt told me, raising an eyebrow. I sighed in defeat. No matter how badly I didn't want to admit it, he was right, "I think Karofsky's having a party tonight. You better be there, instead of wallowing about quitting glee club. No one forced you." Matt told me, walking away from me. He shrugged his shoulders and was gone. I groaned again, the sound bouncing off the empty hallway walls. I was so frustrated. All I really wanted at that point was Brittany. I wanted her excited stares, watching me carefully. I wanted her soft fingers to trace the lines on my hands during glee club because she didn't really understand anything that Mr. Schuester was saying in the first place. I wanted her giant hugs at the end of the day because she said she would miss me too much if she didn't. I wanted my best friend back. With that, I went home. There was no football practice that night, so I went back to my room to wallow. At least, for a little while before Karofsky's party.

Karofsky's house was the last place I wanted to be on a Friday night, but I didn't want to be killed, so I went. As soon as I got there, I could already see a forming pile of beer cans on the front porch. I shivered against the wind a few times before I entered the house. Clearing my throat, I opened the door. The smell of cheap beer and nasty appetizers hit me hard as I entered the house. The lights were dim, everyone jam-packed into one room. It looked awfully sleazy in there. Metal music screeched in my ears, everyone head banging to the unintelligible lyrics. My eyes swept over the room, noticing one thing at once. Brittany. She was sitting on the floor, cross-legged. She looked hurt and confused. Spotting me, Brittany hopped from her spot, running into my arms.

"Mike," She cried, throwing her arms around me. Her breathing was heavy and extended, relaxing in my arms.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, scrunching my eyebrows together. Brittany thought for a second, touching her index finger to her chin.

"I came here to find you," Brittany said simply, half-smiling, "I want you to come back to glee." Brittany nodded, grabbing my hand.

"Brittany, we'll talk about that later. Why don't we get you home?" I asked her, staring into her eyes. Her eyes looked different, like they didn't belong to her, "Brittany, were you just drinking?" I interrogated, watching her pupils dart around my face.

"Maybe," Brittany told me, her voice sing-songy. Brittany froze for a second, her face going blank. Locking eyes with me, she pulled my head down, kissing me on the lips. Her lips moved uncomfortably, shoving her tongue in my mouth. She tasted like the room smelled, cheap beer and nachos. I had to say, for a few seconds, it was nice. I was pulled back up into a place where it was good to be. I could hear the football jocks whooping and hollering behind me. For a split second, I didn't know what they were yelling about. After my brain realized what she really wanted, I scraped her off of me.

"Brittany," I asserted, holding on to her shoulders, "I'm taking you home now." Brittany stomped and crossed her arms.

"Why? Don't you like me?" Brittany whined, her eyes glossed over. She stuck her lip out.

"Of course, I like you. That's why I'm not going to mess anything up," I told her. I wasn't sure if all of that was fully true yet. I knew I loved Brittany deep in my heart as a best friend, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to take it to that level, "Let's go." I grabbed on to Brittany's warm hand again, pulling her back out of the door.

**For those of you that are reading "Promises", a new chapter should be up soon! Review, please! They make my existence!**


	2. Sleeping

**hello :) **

"Mike, I don't want to go home," Brittany whined, struggling against my grip. She was pulling away from me, trying to sit down on the porch steps. I let her sit down, groaning. I plopped down next to her, resting my arms on my knees.

"Why don't you want to leave?" I asked her, trying to hold her attention. She grabbed on to my hand again, staring at me, wide-eyed.

"It's lonely at home," Brittany explained, "My mom's at home in the clouds and my dad is never around." Her eyebrows were crumpled together, her eyes still glossy. She was fighting to pay attention. I didn't like a drunken Brittany. I sighed, squeezing her hand.

"You can stay over at my house tonight, if you want," I offered, glancing up at the sky, where Brittany's eyes happen to be. Her head suddenly flicked to me, face lit up. Her eyebrows were raised, a bright smile draped on her face.

"Please, please, please! Can I stay?" Brittany begged, shifting her other hand under the one she was already holding. She raised it up to her heart, pleading with her eyes. I nodded, helping her off of the step.

"Let's go back, Britt. You need to lay down," I told her, keeping a tight grasp on Brittany's hand. It was oddly warm, fitting perfectly in mine.

"Dude, where are you going?" Matt called out the door as I was helping Brittany into my truck. Brittany stared at the step like she couldn't figure out how to step inside the cab. Paint chips drifted into the snow as I lifted Brittany into the rusty truck. She squealed when I set her down, resting her back on the seat.

"Taking Brittany back. You guys know she can't be drinking. Do you remember what happened last time?" I asked Matt, spitting venom in each one of my words. Matt's eyes flickered, remembering the incident earlier this year.

Finn thew a party for Halloween at his house a few months ago. Everyone was in costume, dressed up with anything they could find in their houses. It was mostly for Cheerios and the football team, but some of the glee kids were invited. Brittany was dressed up in a duck costume, or at least that's what she told me. It was a little yellow dress that perked up in the back, a couple of feathers pinned on to the back. A tiny duck-bill was sitting on her nose, hooking around the back of her head. I noticed she was drinking a bit, but I didn't realize how much she had really drank until Brittany was standing on Finn's roof. I saw her when I went outside to go grab some water out of the cooler on the porch. Breathing heavy, I climbed up the side of Finn's house, meeting Brittany on the slanted sides of the roof.

"Brittany, what the hell are you doing?" I half-asked, half-scolded. Brittany's head whipped around to me, nearly losing her balance. I threw my arms around her, forcing her to sit down on the shingles. I noticed her shoes, which didn't really match the rest of her outfit. They looked older than anything else I had seen her wear before.

"I'm going to jump, Mike. LET ME GO!" Brittany shrieked, thrashing in my grip. Hot tears were streaming down her face, streaming mascara down her cheeks. She was kicking her feet, loose shingles falling off the sides, disappearing in the darkness. I heard yelling from down on the ground, no faces to match the voices.

"Brittany, I am not letting you go. Why-...What-...Why would you jump off of the roof?" I stuttered, words escaping me at the moment. Brittany's eyes were crazy, locking with mine.

"I miss my mom. I want to die, so I can be with her," Brittany sobbed, shoving her head into my chest, "These are hers." Brittany mumbled, wriggling her feet. The breath rushed out of me. I struggled to find the words to reply to her, just tangling up in my throat. My arms were plastered around her, fighting back tears. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Brittany. I cleared my throat, unable to wrap my mind around it. Brittany hummed slowly, the short hums turning into words. She was singing softly to herself.

_Crouched down on a rooftop_

_In my mother's high-heeled shoes_

_I'm wondering if I will drop_

_Fly away with you_

_I can smell the rain coming_

_But I won't leave until it falls_

_I'm gonna soak in its downpour_

_Til I hear my mother's calls_

_Cause I am playing God_

_I am raising hell_

_As far as I can tell_

_I am all alone_

_Alone in this world_

_Alone, with you_

"Don't cry. I'm here," I whispered, the tears starting to flow reluctantly from my eyes. My scrambled brain tried to make sense of the situation, coming to terms with what I just saved Brittany from.

"Yeah, I remember. She looked like she was having fun, though!" Matt defended, my brain crashing back down from the memory.

"God, Matt! You are such an idiot! She could have _died!_" I growled, my eyes like daggers, boring into his face. Matt backed up a little bit as my fists clenched together, my knuckles whitening.

"Calm down, dude! She didn't die. She's still alive! She's fine! Stop being so freaking uptight!" Matt yelled, nudging my shoulders with his fingertips. I breathed, the air hissing through my nose. Clenching my teeth together, it took everything I had not to punch Matt's mocking smirk off of his lips. Matt crossed his arms, his eyebrow raised at me. I squinted.

"Leave me alone, " I hissed, Matt turning away from me, snorting with laughter. I had to remind myself that Matt was my friend and he never acted like he was now. I didn't know what got into him, but all I wanted to do was get Brittany to a place where she was safe. Frustrated, I ran back to my rusted truck, joining Brittany in the cab. Brittany was playing with the jingling keys, giggling softly. I snatched the keys from her, jamming them into the ignition.

"I'm tired," Brittany yawned, grabbing on to my right hand. She looked at my confused face and replied, "I like holding your hand." It sounded more like a question, her voice raising in pitch on the last word. Brittany paused, rubbing her thumb on the back of my hand, "Mike, I think I love you."

"Brittany, you're drunk. You don't know what you are saying," I told her, still wishing her words were true. I think I loved her back. After defending her and remembering everything that happened, I really think I loved her.

"But, I mean it, Mikey," Brittany said, using my old nickname. We've been together since I can remember. I used to call her "Britt," and sometimes, I still do.

"No you don't, Britt. No one loves me," I mumbled, getting silence in return. Brittany tasted my words, running her tongue over her teeth. We drove in silence until we reached my house. Brittany was asleep on the seat, breathing softly. I went around to her side, picking her up out of the seat. I carefully walked into the house with Brittany in my arms, making sure I didn't knock her head on anything. I brought her up to my room, setting her gently on my bed. Tucking her in, I crawled in next to her, our bodies molding together.

"I really do love you," Brittany whispered, staring at me in the darkness. Her voice was cracked, like she just woke up. I nodded, letting her kiss me softly on the cheek. My cheek tingled, my stomach fluttering. It sounded cheesy, but it was kind of magical.

"I love you, too, Britt," I told her, doubting she could hear it. It was the most true thing I've ever said. Laying there in bed, watching Brittany fall asleep, I felt at home. Through her mascara-coated, purple tears, the screaming, the sadness, the loneliness, she found love. With me. It gave me hope for life. It was surreal. I didn't know how to feel, holding Brittany close to my chest. She was breathing lightly, her heart beating steadily. She sighed, nuzzling her face into my shoulder. For once, I really felt like everything would be okay.

I would go back to glee, and everything would be okay.

At least, I hoped so.

**oooh. what's going to happen? hahaha i love you lovely little "grasshoppers"**


	3. Big Problems

**god, i'm a slacker.**

Chapter 3: Big Problems

Brittany woke up in the morning, running toward the bathroom. I woke up with her, rubbing my eyes in confusion. I sat up in my bed, listening to Brittany scuffle through the halls. Not bothering to put on a shirt, I jumped up out of bed to go help her find her way to the bathroom as her hand flew to her mouth. I felt bad, but I shoved Brittany into the nearest door, thankfully being the desired destination. I held on to Brittany's hair as she leaned down, throwing up violently in the toilet. I rubbed her back gently, murmuring to her.

"It's okay, Brittany," I tried to soothe her, my face twisting. I couldn't handle the smell, "Just breathe." My eyes flickered to my wrist, my watch still on. 5:12. I groaned lightly, making sure Brittany couldn't hear me. Brittany sat up a little bit, wiping her mouth.

"I'm sorry," She breathed, getting up to scrub her hands, "I'm really sorry." She flicked her head toward the faucet, silently asking me to turn it on for her. I obliged, turning on the warm water.

"It's okay, Britt. It's not your fault," I told her. My eyes scrunched in apology. I felt terrible, but I really didn't know why. I just wanted to help her as much as I could. "I don't remember anything from last night," Brittany groaned, her voice hoarse again. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. _She didn't remember anything._ Not even my declaration of love for her. She probably didn't remember hers for me either.

"You really don't remember a thing?" I asked her, furrowing my eyebrows. My heart screamed in my ears. _Don't let it be true. _Searing blood coursed through my veins, begging for her statement to be a lie, even if there was no need to lie about something like that. My mind was scrambling, my thoughts jumping around. A bone-deep longing for everything she said to just disappear was running through me now, wanting with every piece of me to go back to us last night, talking in bed.

"No," Brittany said, shaking her head. She pursed her lips, her face quickly warping to panic, "Why? Did I say something bad to you?" Brittany's eyes darted around the bathroom, trying to catch my eyes. She flicked her fingers, attempting to dry them off. I threw her a tiny, reindeer towel that was sitting on the side of the bathtub. My mom tended to over-decorate for Christmas, swapping everything we had in the house to be Christmas-themed.

"No, Britt, you didn't," I told her, my voice soft and defeated. I reached my hand over, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Brittany's ear. Brittany looked at her feet, half-smiling.

"I'm sorry, Mike. This is why I try not to drink. I just miss you and..," Brittany paused, thinking for a second. She sighed, picking her brain for the right words, "Well, it just...hurts." Brittany sounded defeated as well, sort of empty. Her voice was tired and hoarse.

"It's my fault, Britt. I miss you, too," I told her, pulling Brittany into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around her back, leaning my cheek on the top of Brittany's tangled mess of hair. I could hear a soft sigh, followed by a gentle sniffle. Brittany was warm against my chest, her breath steady. I bit hard on my lip, trying to contain each of last night's words safely inside of me, where they belonged. They were ready to explode, longing to remind Brittany of what happened, "But, you're sure you don't remember a thing? You said some...pretty...umm, important things." I said, my cheeks burning. Brittany pulled away from me, her eyebrow arching. Her eyes were still pink, wiping away a stray tear. She stood in front of me, staring.

"Oh, no," Brittany mumbled under her breath, "Oh, no." She started panicking, setting her hands on my shoulders. Brittany started to act sternly, her face still panicky, "What exactly did I say to you?"

"You might have said...you love me?" I told her, staring deep in her eyes for any proof that what she told me meant something. Brittany swallowed hard, trying to keep her face composed.

"What did you say back?" Brittany asked, her face softening. A deep pink started forming on her cheeks, waiting impatiently for my response.

"Wait, so you meant it?" I asked her, a tiny smile toying with the corners of my lips. Brittany breathed nervously, her the color under her skin intensifying. She was looking down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. I lifted up her chin slightly with my index finger, cool against her warm skin. Brittany blinked at me, still trying to avoid my eyes.

"It depends on what you said," Brittany whispered, looking at me finally. A tiny smirk was formed on her lips as she flickered her big, blue eyes back and forth from me to an object in the room. A bright smile was splayed across my face.

"I would say...I love you, too," I whispered back, watching Brittany's face light up the room. She jumped around a little bit, biting her lip in excitement.

"You really mean it?" Brittany giggled, grabbing on to my hands. Her hands were gentle, but jittery. I will never be able to express how I felt when I saw Brittany dancing around the bathroom, hung over with tear-filled eyes. My stomach was fluttering, a weight jumping off of my shoulders.

"I definitely mean it," I told her, smiling brighter than ever. Brittany shifted on to her toes, meeting me as I leaned down to kiss her. This kiss was everything I expected it to be the first time, leaving out the fact that Brittany's mouth tasted like throw-up. Even with the awful taste, I still hungered for more, itching to kiss her again. At that moment, all I really wanted to do was dance.

"Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry. My mouth probably tastes like throw-up," Brittany fretted, her hand flying to her mouth. I grabbed her hand, moving it back down to where it was. I had to laugh at her.

"It's okay, Britt," I breathed, kissing her again, lighter this time. Brittany's smile afterward made the bad taste all worth it. She yawned, holding on to my hand again. We pressed our palms together as I rubbed the back of Brittany's hand. It felt like everything was fitting together finally as Brittany dragged me through the hallways back into my room. She was giggling as silently as she could, attempting not to wake up my parents. I shut the door behind us, crawling back into the bed. Brittany never let go of my hand, even as we fell asleep again. Brittany made little snorting sounds in her sleep, barely loud enough to notice. Brittany startled me again when she shook me awake.

"Mike, you're going back to glee club, aren't you?" Brittany asked me, almost whining. She was sitting up in my bed, changed into some of my pajama pants and a tanktop. Sitting cross-legged, she tilted her head, waiting for my response.

"Yeah," I groaned sleepily, my eyes fluttering open. I rubbed the sleep off of them, mimicking Brittany's position. Brittany held out my cell phone to me.

"Call Mr. Schue," Brittany smiled, completely meaning it. I obliged, grabbing the phone from her. Flipping it open, I searched through my contacts for the number I called once when I needed help in Spanish. My hands shook a little bit with nerves. Listening to the bland dial tones of my phone, I waited for Mr. Schuester to pick up.

"Hello?" Mr. Schuester greeted, cheerful.

"Hey, Mr. Schue, it's Mike," I said, my voice quivering. Mr. Schue seemed to think about my words for a minute before speaking again.

"Oh, hey, Mike. Do you need Spanish help again? I didn't give you guys homework..." Mr. Schue said, sounding confused.

"No, that's not it. I just want to go back to glee club," I stated, basically demanding my spot back. The voice on the other end sounded like he was contemplating.

"Mike, as much as I'd like you back, I'm sorry, but you'll have to prove that you'd be trustworthy not to leave again. You'll have to audition again, but in front of everyone this time. Good luck. Bye, Mike," Mr. Schuester told me, hanging up the phone. Frustrated, I snapped the phone shut.

"I have to audition again, but in front of everyone," I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. Brittany grabbed my hand.

"It's no big deal, Mikey. I'll help you," Brittany smiled, "Singing's easy." That's when I knew I'd be able to make it back. With Brittany, I'd definitely get in.

Ignoring one huge problem, of course.

**i really do love you, lovely parrots (HAHAHA, way to think on the spot, Shadesz.) thanks for putting up with me :O**


	4. Piano

**It's been far too long.**

Chapter 4: Piano

Once Brittany and I were all cleaned up, we decided to start working on my audition to make my way back to the place I belonged, glee club. Brittany was sitting on my bed, combing her fingers through her hair. She was going through intricate vocal runs, probably ones that she just made up. Her voice gave me goosebumps, so perfect and clear. I was sitting in front of her in awe, listening carefully.

"What do you want to sing?" Brittany asked me, tilting her head slightly. She bit her lip, waiting anxiously for my response, "Right now, I mean. It doesn't have to be for your audition, if you don't want it to be." Brittany stared at me, clearing her throat.

"Hmm," I hummed, pressing my index finger to my chin for a second, "I think I have one. You're going to have to come with me, though," I told Brittany, grabbing on to her hand. We retreated down the stairs, sitting down at the worn piano bench in our living room. My parents were gone, so I was safe for a while. At least, I thought. There were no cars outside, so I figured my mom went shopping or something. I set my fingers on the piano keys, kind of indented from playing it so much. I took piano lessons from when I was about 5 until I turned 13. My dad took me out of lessons once I started to really get interested in music. I started really getting into dancing and singing whenever I got a chance. My dad didn't really want me to go down that path, so he stopped letting my mom pay for lessons. I still practiced when no one was home, learning new songs and singing along with them. It's what I really loved. Brittany furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. I explained to her the whole story, getting a nod in return. I gave her a subtle wink and began to play, soft and gentle. It was kind of sad, reminding me of a thunderstorm. Brittany rested her head on my shoulder, welcoming the lyrics that followed.

_It's a plague, this constant weight._

_ It haunts my thoughts when you're away._

_ Would it be safe for one to say_

_ I made your heart smile at the end of the day?_

_ What, what was hidden behind your smile?_

_ Was it love, or pain in disguise?_

_ I know my love never took that away,_

_ I know my love was just a plague._

Brittany sniffled next to me, wiping her eyes with my sweatshirt sleeve that hung loosely on her tiny frame.

"Don't cry," I comforted, wrapping my arms around her. Brittany hugged me back.

"I'm not crying," She lied, "It was just really pretty. Your voice is really nice." Brittany wiped her nose and replaced my fingers on the piano.

"Wait, you can play, too?" I asked her, my face completely warped with confusion. Brittany almost looked offended, rolling up the floppy sleeves. I stood up, letting Brittany sit comfortably.

"I've been playing since I can remember," Brittany told me, her hands running up and down the piano. Her fingers started playing an intricate scale, flitting over the keys. My eyes nearly popped out of my head, listening to the sound being produced by the girl in front of me. I had to say, it surprised me. I wouldn't expect her to know how to play the piano. Brittany's voice started to join in with a group of notes complementing each other, making the most beautiful music.

_ You've gotta swim, swim for your life_

_ Swim for the music that saves you_

_ When you're not so sure you'll survive_

_ You gotta swim and swim when it hurts_

_ The whole world is watching_

_ You haven't come this far to fall off the earth_

_ The currents will pull you away from your love_

_ Just keep your head above_

I knew it would, but it touched something inside of me. Something so deep inside of me, hiding in the pit of my stomach. It brought this thing up inside of me, something I didn't know existed. I cleared my throat, hugging Brittany tight again. She smiled at me, bright and warm.

"You're so talented," Brittany muttered, her eyes wider than usual. They were perfectly clear, light reflecting off of them beautifully. That's the only word I could use to describe Brittany then. Beautiful. Even with her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a sweatshirt that's way too big for her accented with a tired face, she was beautiful. I lost my focus for a second, taking my place back on the piano bench.

"I think you've got it mixed up. You are the most talented person I've ever met," I told her, being genuinely honest. Brittany's eyes sparkled for a split second, flickering back to my hands. I started playing whatever first came to mind, which happened to be "Colors of the Wind" from Pocahontas. I don't know why it came to mind, but it was there. Brittany and I carried on like this for hours, singing whatever words came to our mouths, playing whatever notes came to our fingers. Once I took her home, I still practiced after that. I wanted so bad to get back into glee club, no matter what it took.

Once the audition came, I was pretty sure I was going to snap in half. The tension was killing me, not even relieved by Brittany holding my hand through the crowded hallways. I was trying to stay undercover, avoiding the other football players. I wanted to make it to the end of the day without being killed by one of them, even though I wasn't off of the team yet. When the time finally came, I walked in to glee club with my head held high, even though it was fake confidence. Everyone sitting in front of me stared at me with wide, judging eyes. Tina and Artie squinted at me, obviously not wanting me back. The whole room was tense, the air thick and heavy.

"Guys, I know you probably hate me," I said, clearing my throat, "But I don't hate you guys. I really just want to be back where I belong, singing and dancing. I just want to be back with you all. I don't care if I never get a solo, I just want to be back. Please, hear me out." I pleaded, standing still for a few seconds before retreating to the piano. I sat down, winking at Brittany. She nodded with encouragement, getting a dirty look from Santana. I returned the look, flickering my eyes back to the sheet music in front of me. I started the slow melody, playing it just as Brittany and I practiced. I concentrated all of my energy into the song, trying to make it as meaningful as possible.

_ These hammers and strings_

_ Been following me around_

_ Behind passenger vans_

_ Through the snow, dirt, and sands_

_ Of 1000 American towns_

_ And my friend calls me up_

_ With her heart heavy still_

_ She says, "Andy, the doctors_

_ Prescribed me the pills._

_ But I know I'm not crazy._

_ I just lost my will._

_ So why am I, why am I_

_ Taking them still?"_

Mr. Schuester watched me intently, chewing on the side of his cheek. His eyebrows furrowed, carrying something heavy on his mind. I finished the song, cringing in anticipation. A few weak claps pierced the air alongside Brittany's hyperactive applause.

"Uhh...Very good, Mike," Mr. Schuester said warily, making sure I wouldn't be offended by his words, "We need to put this to a vote." I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. I knew that it was over right there. Even Brittany's eyes were apologetic, gripping on to her seat with her fingers. I could see her knuckles whitening, "Here's a slip of paper. Write 'Yes' if you think Mike should stay and write 'No' if you think he shouldn't come back." Mr. Schuester turned to me after he handed out the tiny sheets of paper, "Sorry, Mike, but it's only fair." His eyes begged me to believe him.

"I know," I said simply, defeated. I knew at that point that it was all over for me. Santana glared at me, condescending and angry. I glared back, my eyes narrowing. Mr. Schuester gathered all of the papers in a hat, setting it gently on the piano in front of me. One by one, he grabbed a paper out, read it out loud and set it neatly next to the hat.

"No," Mr. Schuester read, following the tiny routine, "No." Set down, dig for a new paper, unfold, "Hell, no," He read, his eyes flickering to Mercedes. The "no" pile grew taller and taller, towering over the "yes" pile. Once all of the papers were read, Mr. Schuester grimaced.

"I know," I groaned, gathering up my sheet music. I slung my backpack over my back, not even waiting for Mr. Schuester's response.

"I'm really sorry, Mike. Maybe we can work something out at a later time," Mr. Schuester said, apologetic. His voice sounded fake and recorded to me, like he really meant nothing by it. I was out for good. Santana smiled brightly, silenced by Brittany's frown. I could almost see the tears coming back to Brittany's eyes.

"Sure," I muttered to Mr. Schue, picking up the rest of my things, "Bye, guys." I mumbled, leaving the room. I just wanted to punch everything in sight. People, lockers, whatever. I don't think I had ever been so angry in my life. I worked so hard to get back in and I was walked all over. That was the last straw for me. There was no more hiding, lying or fakeness with me anymore. Never again.

**love you, you slappy dolphins (baha) **

**I'll update soon, I promise**


	5. Seething

**it's...erm, been a while...*chuckles dryly***

Chapter 5: Seething

At that point, I gave up. At the same time, I knew it was my fault. No matter how badly I just wanted to go back in there, I did this to myself. I quit. I guaranteed my banishment from the glee club. It hurt. I started walking toward the beige double-doors, going back home.

"Mike, wait," I could feel Brittany's cold fingertips on the back of my arm, stopping my storm-off outside to my truck. Her eyes were filled with apology, attempting to make everything normal again. She couldn't, no matter how much my heart begged and pleaded for her to be able to. I bit the side of my cheek, trying as hard as I could not to scream in frustration.

"What, Britt? What am I waiting for?" I spat, clenching my knuckles again. Brittany's eyes welled up with tears, biting her lip nervously. My eyes darted around her face, suddenly worried. I pulled Brittany into a tight hug, her hands balled up on my chest.

"For me," Brittany whispered, her face pressed against her hands. I rested my cheek on the top of her head, rubbing my hands on her back.

"Please, Britt, don't cry. You know I'll always be there for you. I guess I won't always be there for glee club, according to them," I said, flicking my head toward the choir room door. Brittany shuddered.

"I'm sorry, Mikey. I really wanted you to get back in," Brittany sniffled, pulling away from me. I could hear steps coming up the hallway toward me. Brittany and I whipped our heads toward the sound, examining the area. Santana.

"Hey, B. Let's go," Santana said, grabbing Brittany's arm. Brittany looked confused and offended, staring at Santana, "B, come on." Brittany glanced at me for a second, searching my face for the answers. My lips tightened into a straight line, no emotion behind them. With a last glance from Brittany, she linked pinkies with Santana and headed back into the choir room. Santana glared condescendingly at me. I shook my head at her. Only Santana. Brittany glanced back a couple of times, whimpering in Santana's grip. I saw them disappear in the choir room, leaving me to go again. My shoes squeaked angrily on the tiles as I jogged out the doors.

The air was stale and heavy, crushing me in it's grasp. I tried to shake it off of me as I pulled open my rusty truck door. Paint chips blew lazily off of the sides, landing on to the ground. I saw Brittany's tear filled eyes over and over again, replaying in my mind. I growled under my breath, kicking the seat as I jumped into the cab. I slammed my things down on the passenger's seat, rubbing my face with my hands. I punched the dashboard furiously, quivering with anger. Breath hissing through my teeth, I started up the ugly scrap of metal underneath me. It squealed in protest, reluctantly turning on. I always thought of my truck as an old man, just about to kick the bucket. I knew it wouldn't last much longer. I didn't really care at that moment. I pulled out of the parking lot as fast as I could, which really wasn't that fast in the first place. Furiously, I drove down the muddy streets, making my way back to my house. I didn't feel free there, either. I felt suffocated, like nothing could pull the crushing loneliness that pressed down on me constantly, cutting me off from my hopes and dreams. Sometimes, if I sang too loudly to myself, my dad wouldn't call me down for dinner. My mom would have to sneak me up some stir-fry after my dad went to bed. My dad frowned upon singing, dancing and all around creative expression. Life was business and we had to be successful to live well. I guess it made sense, but life was about having fun and just... living. How are we going to know who we are if we don't live? I didn't understand what happened to my dad when he was younger, but all I know is that he wasn't the nicest man.

I pulled into my driveway, the angry rain pounding on the windshield. Shutting down the truck, I walked into the unhomely home I lived in. I kind of hated it. I just wanted to get out of this place, I guess. I wanted to get out of the place where I didn't belong. I really was a misfit. I didn't belong anywhere. Not in football, not at home, nowhere. They didn't even want me back in glee club. I slammed the door behind me, gently setting my keys in the little rack next to the door. Taking off my wet coat, I headed up the stairs to my room, running my fingers over the worn wallpaper on my walls. It reminded me of an easier time, all of those memories hiding behind that ugly "Koi fish" covering. It wasn't home anymore.

My room didn't feel like a freedom to me either. I guess I had a little bit more expression in here, free to dance when my parents weren't home. I glanced around the bland place where I had sat alone for so long, examining the walls carefully. They were still the same, one wall covered in scratches when I tried to teach my dog, Meeko, how to dance. Didn't work. The next wall was covered in little chips of paint from my boy band phase where I hung up tons of posters to learn the "secret" dance moves the boy bands learned. That only lasted around 6 months. The other wall was perfectly clean, not a scratch on it. The only thing that made it any different was the little nicks on the side from when I decided to track my height. Sometimes I would make a new mark, just for old time's sake. The last wall was actually covered in patches and several other holes. I tended to punch things when I'm angry. Even then, I tightened my lips into a devilish grin, sprinting toward the wall with my fingers tightened into a fist, blasting a perfect hole in my wall, joining the others. I glanced around, making sure no one was around to hear or see what I had just done. No one would notice. No one ever does. I turned around, noticing a gleam of golden light streaming from my bed. Reaching over toward the source, I picked it up. A delicate, tiny, golden chain. It had an elegant charm that just read, "B" hanging from the necklace. I cracked a smile, watching the light bounce off of the letter. All of a sudden, I heard a door slam from downstairs, shaking my windows. I dropped the necklace back on to my bed, rushing down to the living room.

"Oh, hey, Dad," I muttered, retreating down the last couple of steps. He grunted, nodding his head at me. I hummed silently to myself, straightening up the couch cushions. The air went dry as I saw my dad pick up a messily written note off of the counter. His eyebrows furrowed angrily.

"MIKE, YOU'LL DO GREAT AT GLEE CLUB TODAY," My dad read, glaring over the paper. He didn't know about glee club. Only my mom did and she wouldn't dare to tell, "FROM, BRITT."

It was all over then. I winced, waiting for the rage, "Care to explain, Michael?" He roared, tapping his foot in anticipation. I stumbled over my words, trying to come up with a good lie. All of a sudden, I realized that I didn't have to lie to him anymore. I was my own man. I had to learn to stand up for myself.

"I am- Well, I was in glee club. I had an audition today. I'm a singer and dancer, dad. Get over it," I said simply, crossing my arms. I realized that was a bad idea, right after I said it.

"Get over it? You think I can get over my son being more like a daughter? Do you want to grow up doing something only little girls and gays do? If you want to grow up and be a drag queen, by all means, don't let me drag you down. If singing and dancing like a pretty ballerina is what you want to do, feel free to pack up your things and leave. Try not to make a huge spectacle of yourself on the streets," My dad screamed, raging away. Each word hit me harder than the one before. I scoffed, fury bubbling up inside of me. I was waiting for everything to spill over. I was waiting to pop, for everything to just explode. Instead, I gave a silent response.

"Okay, I'm leaving," I said calmly, heading back up the stairs. I reached my room again, punched 3 more holes in the wall and grabbed the duffle bag that lay lazily on my floor. I threw everything I needed inside, my clothes, my music, my iPod and grabbed the stupid, little pre-paid phone on my desk. Frantic and seething, I dialed the number I had just dialed as I sat next to Brittany days before.

"Mr. Schuester? I kind of have a problem."

**love you, happy DUCKS. **


	6. Texts

**wow...it's really been a long time...almost 3 weeks. i'm sorry you guys. **

**i'll post more than once ever 15 years from now on, okay?**

Chapter 6: Texts

Mr. Schuester answered my statement in an overly concerned tone, "Mike, what's going on?" All of the pressure was on me at that moment as I told him about my situation. Once I finished my rushed words, Mr. Schuester replied with an awkward clearing of his throat, unable to form words for a second. "So, you are off on your own right now?" He asked me, confused.

"Uhh, yeah," I mumbled quickly.

"If you need a place to go, I can come pick you up," Mr. Schuester offered. The scratch of pen and the rustling of paper cut through the background sounds, easily being heard. Mr. Schuester was my only option. My grandparents on my dad's side lived pretty far away and could only speak Chinese. I didn't know enough Chinese to communicate with also probably wouldn't have taken me in if I had asked them anyway. My grandparents on my mom's side were both dead.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I told him, defeated. I didn't really want to live with a teacher, but I had no choice.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Mr. Schuester assured, his voice accented by the jangling of keys.

"Wait!" I blurted, "I'm going to walk to the park and ride near my house. Everything will just be worse if you pick me up at my house. I know I sound crazy, but can you meet me there?" I asked, impatiently waiting for a response.

"Oh," Mr. Schuester paused, "Yeah, sure. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?" He asked, saying it more like a statement. I replied with a quick "Yes" and hung up the phone.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I swept my eyes over my room for the last time for a while, searching for something I might have forgotten. My eyes were drawn once again to the gleaming piece of jewelery sitting on my green bed spread. I picked up, holding the letter in my hand. Snapping my fingers tight, I gripped the necklace like it was going to go away if I didn't hold it tight enough. I took it with me, running back down the stairs with all of my things. I waved sarcastically at my dad, who was staring intently at a crossword puzzle. He didn't even bat an eye as I grabbed my coat, walked out the door and slammed it behind me. I threw on my shoes once I was outside (it was a tradition to leave our shoes outside of the door, even in the snow), shrugged on my coat and started walking. My shoes sloshed through the watery snow, leaving a path down the sidewalk. My eyes swept the area, glancing at the dormant flowers in the snowy flower boxes that sat under some of the windows I passed. I noticed the chipped, dented mailboxes glinting in the dim light. I noticed the chilly night air blowing wet plastic bags down the street. I even noticed Santana look out the window of her house as I passed it, flipping me off again. I returned it, too pissed off to play nice.

I didn't know why Santana hated me the most out of all of this. I was kind of dating Brittany and making her happy, so I had no idea why Santana was so pissed. I was helping Brittany in return to the help Brittany was giving me. Brittany was finally in a good place. I kind of saved her again. Maybe Santana was just bitter because of the times I was there for Brittany and she wasn't. I was in the perfect position to be just as equally pissed off at her as she was at me.

It didn't matter anymore. Santana was going to somehow convince Brittany to break up with me and move on to some other guy. I could feel it. I knew I had to fight to get back into Glee Club before that happened. At the same time, I felt like Brittany actually meant it like I did when she said she loved me and wouldn't leave me.

At that moment, I had no clue. My brain was too clouded to care.

I finally reached the vacant park and ride, Mr. Schuester's rusty car waiting for me. Mr. Schuester got out of his car, the door creaking in protest. He unlocked the trunk, letting me put my bag inside of it.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," I mumbled to him, "This really helps." Mr. Schuester nodded, patting my shoulder.

"It's no problem," He replied simply, closing the trunk and heading back to the driver's seat. I joined him on the other side, sitting down in the car. We were silent for a few minutes, the tension building up between us, "Do you know how long you're going to have to stay?" Mr. Schuester asked curiously, breaking the silence. I knew it wasn't a "I need you out as soon as possible" sort of thing, he was just genuinely curious. I shrugged.

"I have no idea. My dad has to let me back in the house some day," I replied, toying with the necklace that was still in my hand. Mr. Schuester glanced at it for a moment, then snapped his eyes back to the road. He nodded in approval.

After an awkward ride, Mr. Schuester and I ended up back at his apartment building. Unlocking the trunk again, I carried my bag limply in one hand, following Mr. Schuester toward his apartment. My wet sneakers left little puddles all the way up the stairs.

"Did you move?" I asked him, whispering as we traveled through the hallways.

"Yeah. I couldn't afford the house after Terri and I divorced," He said, shoving his house key into the lock. He opened the door, showing me inside was unnaturally clean, to the point of being almost surgical. Mr. Schue was never this clean. I was confused for a second before I realized it. Ms. Pillsbury was here. Mr. Schuester hung up his keys on the little rack and showed me where I was going to stay. There was a guest bedroom, perfectly generic. Everything was an ugly off-white, from the walls to the tucked-in bed cover. I flopped my things down on the bed, wrinkling the bed spread.

"Are you hungry?" Mr. Schuester asked as I followed him back out into the living room.

"Yeah, actually. I haven't eaten since lunch today," I glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:23. Mr. Schuester went into the kitchen as I sat down on the couch, studying the pictures on the walls. Smiling pictures of Mr. Schuester and the red-headed guidance counselor stared back at me, along with a few others of people I'd never seen before. There were several of them, sitting on swings, cheesy photo sessions done at "professionally". My phone buzzed suddenly in my pocket. I flipped the phone open, bold words greeting me.

**New text from: Britt**

I opened the text hungrily, aching for her words.

**r u ok mikey?**

** 3 B :)**

I texted her back, smiling at her words. It was just nice to hear from her, no matter how brief the text was.

**i'm okay. got kicked out of my house. over it. at mr. schue's now**

** MikeChang(ster)**

I waited intently for Brittany's next text as Mr. Schuester brought a leftover hamburger on a paper plate over to me.

"It's not much, but I already ate dinner," He told me, turning on the T.V.

"Thanks," I thanked him, still staring at my phone in the corner of my eye. Mr. Schuester plopped down on the chair next to the little couch I was sitting on. I picked lazily at the food, watching the dance show that was mostly background noise for me right then. My phone buzzed again, signaling another text.

**omg r u staying there? **

** 3 B :)**

I texted back, wiping the grease off of my fingers on my pants.

**yea, for now. i love you, britt**

** MikeChang(ster)**

I had to add the love in, just to reassure myself that all of the feelings I really felt for Brittany were real and she felt them, too. Mr. Schuester yawned, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm sorry about how everyone acted today, Mike. You have a lot of potential. I am going to fight to get you back into the Glee Club, okay? They can't be mad forever," Will apologized, flipping through the channels again. I smiled to myself. It was nice to have someone supporting my decisions, rather than shooting them down.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," I paused, "For everything." Even in the wreckage that was my life, I still had someone to trust, someone to go to when I had problems, rather than getting angry at me whenever I thought anything remotely close to un-Asian thoughts.

A new text from Brittany buzzed on the glass coffee table.

**i'm sorry about how san acted...this is my fault...sorry mikey...i love you too xoxoxoxo 3 3 3**

** 3 B :)**

I smiled again, this time brighter than before.

**it's okay. trust me. it's not your fault, it's santana's. trust me, i'll get back in glee and everything will be okay again. **

** MikeChang(ster)**

She loved me, too. That's all I needed through it all. Just a little bit of love, I guess. That's the point where I was really convinced what I had was real.

My feelings for Brittany actually blossomed a long time ago, far before any of us joined Glee Club. I guess it was a slow thing, you could say. Brittany and I met in 3rd grade and have been inseparable ever since. I guess I really came to terms that I liked her more than in a friend kind of way in 9th grade. We were at a school dance and as I watched Brittany twirl around with Santana, careless as a summer breeze, it sparked something inside of me. It sparked a tiny fire inside of me. I couldn't stop looking at her, watching her dance around in circles and laugh as hard as she could. It made me happy just to see her. That's why it made me so angry when she followed in Santana's footsteps and started sleeping around. I acted like I really didn't care, but it made me want to punch holes in the wall again.

I couldn't believe it took me so long to say something.

"I think I'm going to turn in early," Mr. Schuester yawned, handing me the remote, "Just go to bed at a normal time, okay?" I nodded, cracking a smile.

"'Night," I said, waving weakly. After a while of watching mindless T.V., I decided to turn in myself. I think that night, I actually slept peacefully, not worried about a thing. With Brittany's necklace glinting in the moonlight, I wasn't worried about a thing. Not worried about a thing.

_Not worried about a thing._

**:O i love you, nice little sea horses. (amazing choice, mr. changing your screen name so i get super confused, but you know who you are so oh well)**


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